


Renovation

by snarechan



Series: Playing House [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, DO NOT COPY TO ANOTHER SITE OR APP, Do not repost, Drama, Explosions, Gun Violence, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:24:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: Just another name for rebuilding and refortifying.





	Renovation

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are. 
> 
> After three years of plotting, outlining, writing, _re-writing_ , and editing this series has finally reached it's conclusion. There's been multiple cases of writer's block, but I couldn't be more pleased with myself for completing _Playing House_ how I always wanted to (and within the 2019 self-imposed deadline, no less). What an awesome, wild ride it's been!
> 
> My thanks to Keppiehed, Glyphenthusiast, and now Philophrosynae for assisting me in seeing this collection to the end. Credit goes to [resident-longwinded-anon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/resident_longwinded_anon) and their [writing challenge](http://resident-longwinded-anon.tumblr.com/post/99087361601/its-fairly-self-explanatory-i-think-i-was) which started it all for me back in 2016. Also thank all of you who's stuck with me after all this time, the ones that have read, kudoed, or commented during my storytelling journey. And thank you to everyone who's just now joining us - may you enjoy everything as it's been leading up to. <3

_There is no light in the sewers, save the flashlight in Ivan's hand. He adjusts the angle of the beam to shine farther down the tunnel. It catches on a shirtsleeve._

_Red spots the cuff. The attached hand is pressed into a gash oozing blood, which spans from abdomen to hip. At the sudden brightness the rest of the body jerks, causing Ivan to snap his flashlight upright._

_Alfred squints at the harsh glare, but his grip on the handgun does not waver as he keeps pointing it in Ivan's direction._

**Hours Prior**

A door slammed shut, causing Ivan to stir under the blankets. He was never so inclined to rise as early as Alfred was, given their nightly escapades. The other man often equated Ivan to a hibernating bear. But he glanced at the clock and determined that the time was strange even for Alfred.

The sun was peeking through the various windows when Ivan made it to the front of the house to see Alfred in the kitchen. His back was to Ivan as he reached into the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

Alfred’s tank top was flimsy, a t-shirt he'd modified throughout the years. Regardless of both their wealth, Alfred was not so wasteful or willing to let things go. It barely covered his upper body, revealing the flush that went all the way from the back of his neck to his shoulder blades and the fading scar on his upper arm. Sweat coated his entire body, causing the small hairs on the back of Alfred's neck to glisten and the rest to stick together in places.

"You have already gone for your run?" Ivan voiced his observation.

Spinning on his heels, Alfred almost missed covering his drink in time to prevent it from spilling everywhere. Ivan raised an eyebrow, curious as to what Alfred had been thinking about so intently to not even hear his approach. It was unlike either of them to be taken by surprise, even in their own home. Alfred rested the bottle against his face, propping his glasses up by the lip so there was more contact with skin.

"Mm, you're awake this early and telling me _you're_ surprised? I didn't expect you up until noon on your day off," Alfred said.

"We do not get 'days off', just days that are less hectic than others," he said. Ivan finished adjusting his robe as he went to join Alfred in the kitchen proper. "Why go so early? You do not even like to exercise."

The other man didn't need it half the time, either. Ivan didn't understand it himself, but no matter what Alfred ate his muscle and tone did not fluctuate. The spare room had some exercise equipment in it – a punching bag and the like, but he'd yet to see Alfred use them.

"Maybe I'm making good on my New Year's resolution." Alfred set down his drink, his glasses just shy of dropping off his face. He went to push them back into place when Ivan did so for him, trailing the back of his knuckle up the bridge of Alfred's nose.

"It is February," Ivan said. Their bodies were close now, a breath apart, and he was not the only one to take notice. Behind his glasses, Alfred's eyes trailed from Ivan's gaze to just below and stayed there.

"Better late than never, right?" he asked. The question was rhetorical as indicated by Alfred kissing him instead of waiting for a reply.

Alfred's breath was heated; his entire _body_ was hot as Ivan's hands latched onto him. Between the two of them Alfred was always a tad more temperate in comparison, but his regimen had obviously taken its toll. His shorts, tight to begin with, rolled up to reveal the tan lines on his thighs like an extra hem. Ivan looped his thumbs and then his fingers underneath the material to reveal _more_.

"You—" Ivan tried to say, but the other man was relentless. With effort Ivan managed to right himself, insomuch as he could speak. He could still feel Alfred's mouth against his chin, his jaw – he could still reach his neck. "You try to distract me. Why? If there is a serious problem, tell me."

"My only _problem_ ," Alfred said as he reached down and grabbed Ivan's hands, and meaningfully hiked them even higher on his person, "is the fact you've barely touched me for _weeks_." His hold slackened, fingertips trailing over Ivan's wrists and disappearing into the sleeves of his bathrobe to tickle the hair on his arms. "Don't make me say how much I've missed you…"

Ivan understood what he was doing. He'd had time to think back to all the instances when Alfred had avoided his past inquiries – about who he was as a person, or his past, or what he was up to when they were not together. It had been a little arrogant of him to think Alfred was so insatiable, but the diversionary tactic was clear to him now that he understood what to look for.

Unfortunately for Alfred the revelation did not leave him bitter, but inclined to challenge him in his own games.

Giving him a gentle squeeze in warning, Ivan picked him up in one, fluid motion and pressed into the space between his legs. Alfred's fingernails dug into his arms at the movement, his knees digging in. The wall cabinets now at his back served as leverage; Alfred arched forward into Ivan's open mouth kisses.

Against his collarbone, Ivan said, "Tomorrow is Valentine's Day."

Alfred's fingers were clawing at him. No doubt there would be welts and indents later. His panting was for a different kind of exertion, stuttering his words when he said, "There better be a point to this."

"You have yet to bring it up to me. You always have such grand plans for us."

Alfred's hands stopped short, whereas Ivan’s ministrations did not. The calloused pad of his right thumb rubbed small circles into Alfred's hip, eliciting tremors as the muscles danced under his touch.

"So what will it be this year, hm?"

"I…ah… Something, something _private?_ " He must not have realized how like a question that'd come across because Alfred’s hands hurried back into motion. They worked the knot on his robe. "You know, just the two of us? I could cook us dinner."

"You detest cooking. You always insist we go out," Ivan reminded him.

" _You_ could cook us dinner, then. Or we order in. Shake things up a little, you know?" The last part was said an octave higher as Ivan worked his way down Alfred's top. Neither of them wanted to break apart to remove the article of clothing so he easily worked around it.

"Oh, but if nothing is wrong why risk breaking tradition?" Alfred finished working his robe undone and tugged both ends apart. Ivan had worn a full set of pajamas to bed, but the silk material gave no resistance as all the other man had to do was tuck a finger in at the top and drag. The buttons slipped free one-by-one. When Alfred kept evading he asked, "Are you leaving the decision up to me?"

Shaking his head once, Alfred pressed against the cabinets and asked, "Ngh, what?"

Ivan followed him, leaning into his hands. "Valentine's Day. Dinner. Shall I decide? Unless there is an issue…"

Alfred's hands trailed through the hair on Ivan's chest, idly forming patterns. Decision made, he adjusted his grip with a mixed handful of his robe and night shirt, and tugged him into a searing kiss. " _Bedroom_ , you persistent bastard."

Ivan smiled, as that wasn't a refusal.  
  
  
  
  
On the car ride to the restaurant Alfred was uncharacteristically quiet. He sat on the opposite end of the seat from Ivan and stared out the window, chin propped on his hand. Ivan did not force the conversation, never very good at easing into a topic. Usually a single look was enough to convince someone to spill their guts to him, but Alfred had always been immune to even his most pressing tactics.

Patience was another issue. Ivan was unaccustomed to being on the giving end – the one expected to wait things out. That was the true reason he respected Alfred's silence, as he had every intention of working him over during their meal.

The vehicle parked alongside the curb, in front of a small window front. Over the glass door was a small overhang. Everything was nondescript, the name of the establishment nowhere in sight. It was run by Russian immigrants; Ivan found it by word of mouth upon his first day of arrival here. He'd frequented it until Alfred's gang had overrun the area, but now that they were business partners he was looking forward to visiting a familiar place again.

Ivan opened the car door himself and stepped out. When Alfred didn't immediately follow he ducked his head back inside. "Are you not coming?"

"I don't know. We could still have a swell time at home – swing by the liquor store and spend quality time along together. Remember how extravagant our bathroom is?" Alfred asked.

"And deny ourselves authentic borscht? You will enjoy it, I think. Like grandmother used to make," he said.

"Jet tub," Alfred refuted. "With _bubbles_."

Ivan merely straightened to his full height and swung the car door open wider. Still wearing his scowl, Alfred exited the vehicle and fidgeted with his jacket. While he sulked Ivan approached the driver's side window and gave Toris some last minute instructions. The man wore a serious expression when he nodded. Ivan patted the door once and watched him leave before escorting Alfred inside.

Although not nearly as harsh as Ivan was accustomed, the weather outside was bitter. But the temperature contrast with the interior of the restaurant had him sweating in his coat almost instantly. Spices and vinegar wafted from the kitchen in the back, just visible through a tiny cut-through in the wall where the cook took orders. There were five tables total and no podium for a hostess. Ivan seated themselves at a center table since it was the only open seating.

"Never pictured you as the type for a hole-in-the-wall joint like this," Alfred said, pulling up a chair as he took in their surroundings. Bright, rich walls and deep woods made the already small, cramped space seem tinier. Tchotchkes lined the shelves.

"Is like…home away from home," he admitted. Conversation dried up again after that exchange, so Ivan took the time to observe. Alfred seemed to have reverted inside his own head once more. After letting him wallow in his thoughts for long enough Ivan reached under the covering and the table to set his hand atop Alfred's. Underneath their joined hands Alfred's leg stopped jiggling.

He'd startled at Ivan's gesture, glancing down as if he could see their clenched fingers through the tabletop. "Look at me." Alfred did, after a long, drawn out moment. "You remember what happened the last time we kept secrets, yes?"

A muscle in Alfred's cheek twitched. "I'm not hiding… There's nothing to tell, yet." He stopped the lie before it could ever form. "Besides, it's nothing I can't handle. It's just taking longer than I anticipated, that's all."

Ivan tilted his head minutely and he suggested, "Perhaps it would go faster if you let me assist you."

"Do not test me on this." His hand clenched tight, perhaps in warning, or something else. "I told you, there's nothing to tell. Just leave it."

"Alik." At the name, Alfred's fingers eased, allowing Ivan to turn over his hand and curl their fingers together where no one else could see. "You are the only one to oppose me so. I do not doubt your capability, but if there is a threat to you then it is a threat to the Bratva, and I do not tolerate such things."

It was barely there, but Ivan felt the other man's fingers respond back. "If you really believe that, if I tell you, do you promise to leave it to me?"

"What is the purpose—"

" _Promise me_ , Ivan."

He sighed, and motioned with his free hand for Alfred to continue. It would be the closest thing to an agreement Ivan would allow. Sensing this, Alfred said, "Did you ever notice how fast those coppers were on us that night? When your gang and mine first met."

Truth be told, Ivan had more pressing matters on his mind at the time. Ever since it was confirmed that evidence of anyone's presence was set ablaze he hadn't thought much about the incident past his and Alfred's direct involvement in it. He didn't admit as much, only saying, "Go on."

"Well, I've been doing a little backtracking. Thing is, only my guys, Kiku's guys, and the stripper your boy hired were all that were supposed to know about our 'deal'. Yet not even half an hour after you and your people show up we're busted? Fat chance. Someone _squealed_."

"You suspect a mole," Ivan said. The look on Alfred's face didn't match, though. "No, it is something else."

"You run a tight ship," and Alfred couldn't resist a lopsided grin at his own pun, "and so does Kiku. When it comes to a nark I'm not so kind myself. Whoever spoke to the police didn't do so willingly. I'm not as concerned about who did it as who they did it _to_. Just as I narrowed it down, lo and behold they should go missing, so I can't ask the fucking traitor.

"But I've got other means at my disposal. Like I said, this bit is just time consuming, a minor _inconvenience._ Not much longer now and the answer should turn up…" He trailed off, face going impossibly, deathly cold. Alfred looked as if he'd seen a ghost over Ivan's shoulder, but when he went to incline his head and follow his gaze, Alfred's hold was so tight he could sense their joints creaking in protest.

Taking in the blank expression a second time it occurred to him that the waitress, the cook's wife, had yet to greet them and take their order. Ivan glanced out of his peripheral to see how tense all the patrons were. A few not-so-discreetly kept an eye on their table over a newspaper, a cellphone, or their untouched food.

"We need to leave," Alfred said, with Ivan already getting to his feet. People at the four other tables rose up, also, whipping out shiny, golden badges and guns to block their exit.

"Hello, lad. Looking awfully spry for a dead man." At the words Alfred didn't react, keeping his back facing the man who'd spoken. Ivan took in the sight of the speaker as he exited the kitchen. He was shorter than Alfred, making him substantially shorter than Ivan. His eyes were a vibrant green, the color the only thing saving them from being swallowed up by his bushy eyebrows.

In Russian, Ivan asked, "A friend of yours?"

Alfred smirked; very little else reached his eyes. Without a word to Ivan, he turned in place and addressed the man in the tweed vest and long coat. "I was counting on you getting kicked out and staying out of the country after the last time."

"Yes, well. A thunderous rise in the distribution of militaristic-grade weapons requires desperate measures. My more seasoned touch is on loan from Interpol."

"If your track record stands I'm sure they're relieved to be rid of you," Alfred said. That earned him a scowl, to which he held both hands up in placating gesture. "Right, right – you're on loan, so _temporarily_ relieved to be rid of you."

"Joke all you like, but we've a warrant to apprehend the both of you."

"On what grounds?" Ivan asked, at the same instance Alfred said, "Forget him, Artie. He's a nobody."

They shouldn't show a divided front, not to a perceived risk, but Ivan's expression was anything but scathing at the dismissal. 'Artie' exchanged looks between the two of them, latching onto the discrepancy.

"A 'nobody'? Seems just your type."

"So sue me, I like'm big and dumb. And I do mean _big._ "

The detective looked mortified, sputtering something that Ivan interrupted with, "But not deaf." He felt the smile stretching across his face, and a few of the officers with their guns trained on him shifted the hold on their weapons and exchanged glances. "Is Alfred Jones being charged with something?"

"Alfred? _Jones?_ Is that really the one he settled on?" the man asked. "Doesn't matter. We've got a laundry list of offenses against his other aliases: money laundering, fraud, distribution of illegal firearms, _murder_. I would be delighted to list the rest during your own incarceration, Mr. Braginsky, considering you'll be joining him."

"He's got nothing to do with this," Alfred insisted, starting to look bored.

"On the contrary, your present association has me considering otherwise," Artie said. He motioned for the police to move in. "Enough stalling. Time to…what's that phrase? Book'em downtown? Does anyone actually say that tripe anymore?"

The moment an officer laid a hand on Alfred, Ivan said, "No, I do not believe so. We are leaving, just not with you."

Glass cracked.

Orientating from outside, a bullet cut through the window. Thirty seconds later a second bullet penetrated the glass and shattered it completely. One projectile struck a chandelier and sent it swaying, The cord snapped and collapsed in the middle of the room, upending a table.

Alfred took the opportunity for what it was. He sucker punched the officer holding him. He caught him so hard in the temple that the policeman was unconscious in a single hit.

A third shot rang from outside the building. The bullet struck the wall, sending plaster and wallpaper crumbling to the floor. In the confusion Ivan sidestepped the officer that tried to tackle him to the ground, the woman ramming into two of her compatriots instead. He took Alfred by the wrist, preventing him from decking another policeman. Ivan offered no explanation as he dragged Alfred from the restaurant, ducking gunfire and police.

People on the street had identified the signs of violence and fled in all directions. Ivan ran past the screaming and frightened passersby. Those scrambling in his direction were smart enough, even in their panic-fueled state, to go around him. They'd reached halfway down the block when Alfred tugged back on his hand. "Ivan, stop! Damn your long legs, will you at least _slow down?_ "

"Nyet," he said and refused to alter his pace, not until Alfred dug in his heels. Ivan was forced to brake. "We cannot linger here—"

"But why are we running away? We should have stayed to help your guys fight back!"

"Guy. Is _one_ guy. Toris," Ivan corrected him. He flashed his cell phone with a panic app open. "I told him to observe from the rooftop across the street in case of emergency, but I was not anticipating this degree of opposition. He will not hold them off for long."

"Oh," Alfred said. "Shit." The commotion behind them increased as the action from inside the restaurant spilled onto the streets. " _Oh shit_ , come on!"

Still holding Ivan's hand, Alfred went ahead and was now the one to lead. He guided them down an alley that broke off into three paths. Taking the one straight ahead they met with a dead end.

"What were you hoping to accomplish with this?"

Alfred snapped at him, "Less sarcasm and more pushing!" He'd disentangled their hands and moved over to a dumpster situated against one wall, pressing his shoulder against the side. Ivan situated his back along the same side as Alfred and pushed with his legs to aid in his progress. Underneath was a manhole cover.

"How did you know this was here?" Ivan asked.

"Part of my carrier routes; I found a _ton_ of forgotten sections in the sewer system. How'd you think my gang avoided detection for so long? Now hurry up!" he said, wrangling the old manhole cover to the side and sidling down the ladder. Ivan watched him go down.

When Alfred reached the bottom he looked up at him expectantly. "What are you waiting for? Get down here! They could be on us any second."

"You go this way; I have my own escape plan. We will be harder to track while separated."

"…Is this because I called you dumb? Ivan, you have to understand, I mean, you gotta know why I said that—"

"Run. Meet me at home when you can."

And Ivan slid the manhole cover over, Alfred's explanation turning to pleas. "No! Arthur isn't just any detective, he _will_ find you and— _Ivan!_ " With the opening hidden, Ivan shoved the dumpster back into place. The other man must have crawled back up the ladder because he heard banging and muffled yelling on the underside of it.

Racing back the way they'd come, Ivan re-orientated himself. He didn't look back to the side street as he steadied his breathing. He needed to go North, where there was a cleaning business. Along the way Ivan dumped his jacket and gloves in a passing trash can, rearranging his scarf to conceal the lower half of his face. An old man that was asleep on a bus station bench lost his hat as Ivan snatched it to secret his distinctly light-colored hair.

Police cars with their lights flashing passed him as he entered a dry cleaning business. A tiny bell dinged overhead to announce his arrival. No one greeted him. The place looked deserted as Ivan let himself into the back of the establishment. He grabbed a spare coat off the rack on his way. Toris was waiting for him in the manager's office, a cello case leaning against the wall. He shot to his feet as soon as he saw Ivan enter.

"Where is Jones?" Toris asked in Russian.

Ivan replied in kind, feeling more at ease conveying his meaning with that language. "We split ways to avoid detection. I need to flee the city."

"I contacted Raivis. He is in a taxi waiting for you out back."

"Good." His attire switched out, Ivan moved to the rear exit. Pausing in the threshold, he turned and said, "One more thing – burn everything."  
  
  
  
  
Five hours.

Ivan had paced the living room going on _five hours._

Almost six, if he felt so inclined to round up.

Once the directive to uproot their entire operation was given his involvement was minimal. His men, headed by Toris, had prepared for the possibility of discovery and knew what to do. Any documents would be destroyed and files purged, equipment uprooted, and product sold off or sailed into international waters. Ivan had little doubt that once word spread to Alfred's people that they understood what was expected of them, too.

All that was left was for Alfred himself to arrive so they could whisk themselves away to begin anew. But it was hours since he left him alone and Alfred hadn't returned. The longer Ivan was forced to stay the fouler his mood became. "How complicated could it possibly be to navigate the sewers?"

"He avoided us for years. I'm sure he's simply laying low until he can escape the city undetected," Eduard reasoned. He was currently drilling holes in all the computer hard drives in the house, since he'd already deleted and wiped them clean. Next he'd probably take a rubber mallet or hammer to the rest of the inner workings of the machines.

"This has gone on too long. He should be here by now," Ivan said, on his seventy-th or so pass of the space. He was feeling more and more like a caged animal. "Something does not feel right."

"What would you suggest we do? It's not as if we can just go back and find a service entrance to look for him."

"Get my car."

Eduard missed his mark, the drill bit skidding out of control and nicking his hand. He didn't even seem to notice as he looked over at Ivan. "Sir, I was being facetious! We just got you of harm's way and it's be impractical to—"

"How humorous. I do not recall asking for your advice."

Gulping, Eduard dropped the tool with a clatter. "Raivis may not have torched the taxi yet. I will go check."

"Yes, you do that."

In the meantime, Ivan grabbed supplies, namely his faucet pipe. Its weight in his hands was a comfort. Eduard quickly returned to him, letting him know his ride was out front. Once seated in the back, Ivan situated the pipe in his lap. His fingers drummed a staccato along the length of it on the return trip to the outskirts of town. Eduard had identified all the sewer entry points and determined which of them Alfred would most likely surface from.

Exiting the taxi, he ordered Raivis to stay behind. If Alfred did make it out before him he wanted someone to catch him up to speed, or man their getaway car as soon as Ivan found him and got them out.

The barricade was a simple padlock that Ivan easily broke off with his pipe. The path was dimly lit by overhead lights, with the walls, floor, and ceiling poured concrete. His footsteps echoed as he followed the corridor to an access hatch.

The deeper he went the warmer it became. Sweat began to line Ivan's temples and he felt the slimy beginnings of it forming on his back. He checked his phone to see the time and also found he had zero bars this far underground. He was truly on his own.

Putting the device away he switched it for the printout Eduard had also gotten him. It was a blueprint of the sewer system. He doubted its accuracy given the lack of Alfred's personal entrance on the detailed page, but he was pressed for time and would have to infer the rest as he went.

There were no signs that anyone had inspected this area recently, much less passed through. The narrow walkways looked to be undisturbed except by the rats. He kept going, entering into the older, original parts of the sewer system. Lights became sparse until there were none installed whatsoever. Ivan resorted to the light on his phone to guide his path.

While fiddling with the device, he heard voices above the soft sloshing of water. He stilled, minus the swiveling of his head to pin down the origin of the noise, but it seemed to come from everywhere at once. He shut off his cell as quickly as he had turned it on, his eyes picking out the bobbing of lights across the next intersection instead.

"For pity's sake, why won't you come _home?_ " A British voice – Ivan recognized it immediately as the man Alfred had identified as Arthur, the detective. "Don't you think you've been away from your brother long enough? Doesn't he deserve to know you're alive?"

" _Don't._ " Ivan knew the man must be talking to Alfred. Nobody else could possibly be down here, but hearing his lover reply, and so _distressed…_ "Don't try and con a con man, Artie. We both know Mattie has been better off with my cop murdering reputation to jeopardize his life—"

"I know you're innocent."

Ivan had to slow his steps in the silence that followed that statement. He almost didn't accomplish it in time, his boots coming down too hard on the metal grating of the bridge spanning one side to the other.

"Wrong place, wrong time – your words, wasn't it? I've finally gathered the evidence to prove it, lad. So enough running."

"I'm still going to prison though, aren't I? You spouted off what I've done since then, not to mention escaping my sentence the way I did earned me an additional lifetime sentence." Arthur didn't refute his claims. A click, the sound of a gun loading. "I'm a free man, Artie, and I'm staying that way. Kind of gotten reacquainted with the feeling." Then, more seriously, "I won't go back to jail. I _can't._ "

Arthur dropped with a harsh _cungh_ , it sounding like he might have bitten his tongue when Ivan struck him over the back of the head with his faucet pipe. The man fell face first, thankfully remaining on the service path and not into the water. Ivan watched him for a moment to make certain he was unconscious, going so far as to kick him, but when he didn't so much as flinch Ivan confiscated his dropped penlight.

Roving the light, he found Alfred backed into a corner. The first thing Ivan noticed was the splotch of red on his shirt sleeve. It coated the entirety of the cuff and his hand, where it applied pressure to his stomach. There was more blood there, shiny and thick where he still bled.

Alfred had redirected the gun aimed in his hand toward Ivan, but the nozzle trembled in his grip. Even if he'd gotten off a shot Ivan suspected he couldn't hit the broad side of a tank with how badly it shook. The tension around his eyes vanished in realization, but remained glassy as Alfred said, "Wait, Ivan? Is that… Ivan, are you really—"

"I am here," he reassured him. Ivan kneeled, patting Arthur down and finding his handcuffs. He snapped them onto one wrist and the other on a metal pipe running along the bottom of the wall, before sequestering Arthur's weapon. His fingers had gone lax when Ivan knocked him out, but the gun hadn't fallen far from his person.

"Oh thank God. I was totally bluffing. I ran out of bullets."

Stuffing the gun in his belt for ease of access, Ivan finally rushed over to Alfred. He disregarded the intended path and cut straight across the channel of water to reach him. Cold water seeped into his footwear and soaked his pant legs, but he ignored the discomfort. While Ivan had secured the scene Alfred had collapsed against a brick wall, leaving a smear of blood where his wound was dragged down the rough surface. Up close and under the harsh glare of the penlight he looked pale.

"When did this happen? Tell me," Ivan demanded. He tucked the small light behind his ear so as to free up his hands, cradling Alfred's face between both of them. He inspected his eyes; they fluttered open and closed, the pupils dilated.

"There was a small firefight, about…oh, two sections back, maybe? I don't know if one of my bullets ricocheted or Artie got in a lucky shot, but it just grazed me. I've been running through this muck for what seems forever, though. It's probably just infected," he said, words slurring heavily until they trailed off completely.

Alfred was short on time, then. Removing his coat, the second one he'd lose today, Ivan wrapped it around him. The other man was shaking still, hopefully from exertion and not shock or chills from the blood loss. It was too dark to tell – he needed Alfred in the car. There Ivan would have proper lighting and the warmth of a heater to better determine his condition. Two states over and away from all this would be best, however.

Placing an arm under Alfred's knees and the other at his back, Ivan readied to carry him.

"I can walk," Alfred protested, before Ivan lifted him like he weighed nothing. The movement jarred something despite Ivan's best intentions. Alfred's head fell back with a vicious curse and he clutched Ivan’s jacket closer.

On the journey back Alfred didn't say anything, not until they made it back to the car. Raivis spotted them as they exited the service entrance and startled away from the hood of the car. It was already idling, per Ivan's request. Raivis opened the back door so Ivan could situate Alfred inside, the action stirring him to consciousness. While Ivan climbed in next to him Raivis got into the driver's seat.

"The house… Tell him to get us to the house," Alfred said, or gasped, morelike, as he tried to fend off Ivan. His hands were too numb and bloody to gain traction. Ivan easily removed his coat and undid Alfred's shirt to better see the wound.

"He already knows it is safe there," Ivan said, his gaze scanning over the deep laceration with precision focus. The cut was jagged – a sharp blade would have broken cleanly, but the bullet hadn't been as kind. It'd skimmed close enough to leave a chunk missing. "I went back and falsified some information. Should that arrogant detective manage to resurface we will not be so easy to find."

" _I_ went ahead and changed personal details," Alfred said. "Are you telling me you did, too? What'd you do?"

"As far as the county clerk can find I still reside in my condo, and our current property belongs to Viktor and Amelia Bogdanov."

"…I am in too much pain right now to be mad at you for making me the girl," Alfred told him.

Opting to allow the distraction, Ivan kept him talking. "I do not see anything wrong with my choices. Why, what did you decide?"

"Changed the address in a couple key places. If they decide to follow it they'll run right into that Chinese printing shop on 6th and Main Cross. See if _those_ bastards try and stiff me again, hah!"

Ivan paused in cleaning the wound, or at least attempting to do so with the small first aid kit stashed in the back of the driver's seat. The amount of blood was making it difficult to determine just how deep it really was. What emergency supplies were available were looking less and less helpful the more he did manage to reveal, however.

"This isn't how I wanted you to learn, you know," Alfred said. The non sequitur didn't deter Ivan from his task. Wiping down the wound was useless. There was too much bleeding and not enough skin to sew closed. Any movement on Alfred's part would rip the stitches clean.

He replaced the jacket, applying pressure, to which Alfred put a hand on top of his. When Ivan finally looked up Alfred's head flopped in his direction to meet his eyes. "About my past. About Mattie."

Delirious from blood loss and still his Alfred had deduced how much Ivan must have overhead. Ivan glanced over his shoulder and reached out with his free hand to slam shut the window dividing the backseat from the front of the taxi. Raivis feared him more than anything, and he trusted that instinct to keep him from relaying anything said in this car, but that did not mean Ivan approved of anyone being able to listen in on such a private moment.

"Do not speak. Conserve your strength. We will be away from all this soon."

"You have one more question left," Alfred said, persistent. "Cat's out of the bag now, so if you want…"

"As I recall, you did not answer my last one."

"You're gonna have to remind me what it was. It's been a long day, sweetheart."

"If we could run away from all of this, just leave it all behind – would you go with me?"

"Heh, kind of seems like we're doing that now, doesn't it? _On the road again, goin' places that I've never been, seein' things that I may never see again, and I can't wait to get on the road again—"_ Alfred shook his head and laughed. "Sorry, sorry – that's not, I know you expect a serious answer. I guess…after today can I work under the assumption you'd even have me? You're a lot of shady things, Mr. Bratva, but even you know better than to off a cop."

"As do you," Ivan reminded him gently.

"Yeah, tell _that_ to the judge who… Doesn't matter now." His body started to lilt to the side. "Thing is… Uh, the thing is, people like us don't get to die peacefully in our sleep, do we? I'd go anywhere with you, I think, I so would. But I—"

"Stay! You must stay with me, Alik." Spurred into motion, Ivan dug around for the knife in his boot sheath and a lighter. He threw open the coat in preparation for what would come next. "I have one more question. You promised to answer three for me, correct?"

"Hn?"

"Will you marry me?"

Alfred's face scrunched up before opening his eyes. They flickered, searching his face. "Wait, what?"

"Focus! I asked if you would have me. Concentrate on your answer," Ivan said. He removed Alfred's tie, wadding it up into a ball and shoving it in the other man's mouth. His protests were muffled. In the meantime, he heated up the knife until it grew hot, to the point of burning. "Keep it in the forefront of your mind. Please."

Alfred had the chance to grip the cushions before Ivan set the blade over the length of the injury. The skin sizzled on contact. Ivan had to press both hands over the hilt and put his whole weight into it, Alfred bucking wildly under him.

Despite his teeth clamping down on the makeshift gag Alfred’s screams weren't completely masked. Unable to escape the pain Alfred lashed out. He kicked at the door handle, the plastic unforgiving on first contact. By the second kick something cracked when his heel came down on it.

It was a near thing, but Ivan didn't apologize. He grit his own teeth and did not let up until he was certain he'd cauterized the wound completely. The knife did not release easy, and the scarring left in place would never be mistaken for professional surgery. It was a sickly white where the metal had touched, soft and wet looking, but blaring amongst the angry red skin that surrounded it.

He looked to Alfred's face, ready to speak, but he noticed the other man's eyes had fallen shut. Although his chest was heaving he was most certainly passed out. There appeared to be a limit to his pain threshold, to which Ivan could have lived without understanding where that was. He wrapped the rest of the wound, applying burn ointment and a clean patch of white linen that was then kept in place by wrappings.

While Ivan dressed Alfred's laceration, Raivis was forced to take the back roads in leaving the city. They wound their way down one of the hundreds of dirt county roads. Police were no doubt combing some of them for suspicious activity, but there was no way to track all of them with the limited task force at the local station.

He regretted not getting around to bribing at least the sheriff or captain. Having someone that high up in the force would have come in handy right now. He'd always managed to stay so ahead of the police, remaining nigh undetectable, that wasting the resources paying off an official had rated low on his priorities. He would not be repeating that mistake.

There wasn't any other traffic on this stretch of road. They made good time back to the house. Raivis drove past the automatic gates that closed behind them, then paved road, and then up the grass and stone paved path leading to the front door. In his haste Raivis left deep tread marks in the dirt and took out a shrub near the porch.

Ivan didn't waste time. Before the taxi had even come to a complete stop he was opening the door. He stepped out with Alfred in tow, while Raivis went to the trunk to retrieve the accelerant. They would not be needing this particular vehicle anymore, especially with their fingerprints and blood all over it.

Inside, Ivan went over to the sofa and set Alfred on the cushions. Eduard was in the kitchen, where he was finishing up with the computers. They were a smashed heap of metal and tangled wires, the various units indistinguishable from each other where they were drowning in the sink. He wiped his forehead to rid it of the sweat and chemicals he was coated in.

"All your accounts have been transferred and terminated. The hard copies are—" When Eduard noticed the state they were in, he asked, "Ah! Is Mr. Jones…?"

"He is resting. Do not concern yourself," Ivan said, the 'or else' left unspoken.

"Oh, very good. That will make it easier to tell you that I had to purge all the physical evidence in his GT Martin in the garage."

Alfred woke up swinging.

He sat up on the sofa, fist first and eyes wild, taking Ivan in the nose. He'd been kneeling over him and took the brunt of the attack; the punch sent his head snapping back. There was a distinct crunch and it wasn't Alfred's knuckles.

"What? Oh," Alfred said, coming back to himself. "Oh no."

"I may have deserved that," Ivan said, keeping his head leaning back. He had no choice but to use his scarf and lifted it to his face as he pinched the not-so-sensitive part of his nose closed. Blood immediately welled at the base.

"I'm so sorry, I was running on instinct from before and… Actually, I think you're supposed to lean your head _down_. It keeps the blood from pooling near your brain and draining down your throat," Alfred explained, reaching for him. He paused with his hands on Ivan's face. "Wait. Was there something about my car just now?"

"No!" Eduard said, the word coming out more as a yelp. "Nothing's wrong with your vehicle. It's not a viable monetary connection between your gains through arms deals and coated in physical evidence of illegal activity that needed to be gotten rid of."

As Alfred sent Eduard a peculiar frown, Ivan dropped his scarf to reset his own nose. It went with a solid _pop_ , there still a small trickle of blood he felt running down his face and over his lip, but it was closing up. "How are you feeling?"

"Now that you mention it – in an _incredible_ world of hurt right now." Alfred grunted and tried to ease back, Ivan helping him. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ooow _fuck_ I forgot about my side until you reminded me! What'd you use, anyway? A hot poker? A waffle iron? Hurts like a mofo."

The front door burst open, permitting a blast of heat that was revealed to generate from the fraudulent taxi cab on fire. Past that was the sounds of police sirens. Raivis slammed the large doors closed, bolting them every which way he could before pressing his back against it, arms and legs spread wide. "The cops are _here!_ I don't know how, but they're at the gates!"

"How?" Alfred and Ivan demanded in tandem. The other man twisted as he tried to look over the sofa, until Alfred’s injury prevented him from exerting himself. He winced and rested his head on the armrest, a muscle in Alfred's jaw working as he rode through the sting.

"What do we do? I just torched the taxi and Eduard told me over the phone we had to get rid of the GT hours ago—"

"You _did_ get rid of my sports car?" Alfred asked, affronted. "Do you know how much I paid for that? It's the _one_ legitimate thing I bought!"

"With _illicit funds,_ sir," Eduard justified, before turning back to Raivis. His hands were wringing while Raivis started to shake in place; he was going into full-blown panic mode. "We can't run on foot, can we? In Mr. Jones'… _our_ condition we won't make it far before they catch us. How many cars did you see?"

"I think I saw the entire force out there! Maybe even some SWAT or something. We're outnumbered."

"Do you even know what American SWAT looks like?" Eduard asked.

"I watch daytime TV! There was _definitely_ a black helicopter coming in from the rear, and it was huge!"

"A helicopter?" Alfred asked. He frowned and tried sitting up, bracing his arm against his side properly so he was able to lean against the back of the sofa. "The local police isn't budgeted for aerial defense, that's for sure. I went into flight transport for that reason. Are you _sure_ they called in a tactical unit?"

Raivis dragged both hands down his face. "I know what I saw! Can't you guys hear it?" Over the increasing sound of sirens was the whirr of propeller blades. Alfred attempted to get up, presumably to move where he could investigate Raivis' claims. When Ivan tried to force him down he refused.

"Either you help me or get out of my way," Alfred said, and making the decision for him he looped his arm around Ivan's chest, fingers gripping his shirt for purchase. Helping him over to the French doors leading to the backyard, where Alfred shoved aside curtains and blinds to behold the dark helicopter Raivis had told them about. Instead of looking scared or upset, a grin broke out over Alfred's face. "Ed, Ray – turn on the gas."

"I'm sorry?" Eduard said.

"You heard me!" he said, laughing now. "Pull out the stove and cut the gas lines. Break the fireplace while you're at it. I want this place _flooded_ with CH4."

Ivan nodded his chin and his two men got to work. The 'range' was an industrial unit that Alfred was convinced he couldn't live without, even if they'd cooked on it maybe twice. It involved both Eduard and Raivis to resituate. While they worked on severing the line Ivan asked, "What are you planning? Who is flying that helicopter?"

Alfred just grinned and fumbled with his shirt, attempting to button it back up and make himself presentable. With his injury and lack of coordination the task was haphazard. The line of his top was ruined by one of the buttons being offset.

They all fled out the back door. The helicopter landed, and Kiku stepped out and stood beside the still operating transport. He planted both feet apart, his sword in its sheath as he planted it in the ground. Both his hands rested on the hilt.

Ivan came up short at the sight of him, but Alfred was able to limp the last stretch to him. "Kiku, buddy! You've got timing, my man."

Kiku smiled, or at least Ivan thought he tried. "Your second is…persuasive. I hope you do not mind that I came to see this through myself."

"Out of the kindness of your…what, exactly?" Ivan asked, smiling in kind. His face felt like breaking with the intensity of it.

Alfred's cry of excitement drowned out their conversation. "And Tony! I should have known you'd have my back. Good to see you."

"You lovesick bastard!" The pilot-side door was wrenched open, revealing a person in a shiny, silver flight suit that encased their entire body. Their face was covered by a matching silver helmet, the visor a ruby red that even hid their eyes. "Fuck! Get in here so we can _go._ "

"Tony?" Ivan mused, then recalled how Kiku mentioned something about a second-in-command. "Was that not the name of your lieutenant that I had assassinated?"

" _Failed_ to assassinate, you russki asshole!" the pilot, Tony, said. Eduard and Raivis exchanged terrified glances behind Ivan's back at the blatant disrespect. "How about learning to finish the job next time? Shit, I really have to do everything around here."

"Ah, right. Tony, Ivan. Ivan, Tony. I'll introduce the rest of y'all later. Now mind helping me inside, anybody?" Alfred asked.

Kiku offered his arm for Alfred to brace against, allowing him to swing his foot up so he could get inside the helicopter. Ivan loomed in after him, his men following their example. Kiku circled back around to the co-pilot seat just as police swarmed the area. Arthur led the charge, a part of his handcuff still dangling from his wrist as he held a shiny new rifle in front of him. The door to the helicopter wasn't even closed when it took off again.

Bullets pinged off the side of their transport as Tony swerved toward the house, sending men and women diving for cover. He made a pass, still under fire as reinforcements rushed out of the house and around either side. Raivis held onto Eduard for dear life, who'd clenched his eyes shut behind his glasses and held onto the support strap above the door to keep from being thrashed around the cockpit.

Ivan was not having as much luck with Alfred. His partner leaned out of his seat so he could talk directly into the pilot's ear. "Hey Tony, did you bring 'him'?"

"Behind your fatass of a boyfriend," Tony instructed.

Ivan said, "I do not think I am approving of your tone."

"Bite me, commie! This is all your fault!"

Alfred reached back and retrieved 'him' – an RPG-32, a grenade launcher. Ivan had wondered where his prized Hashims had gone off to, and now he'd discovered at least one of them. His Alfred had good tastes, as usual, but what he had in taste he lacked in common sense. The side door of the helicopter was still wide open and with weapon in hand Alfred ducked out of it. Ivan scrambled to take hold of him, but was only capable of catching Alfred by the leg.

"What are you doing?" Ivan demanded.

"Give me a clear line of sight, Tony!" At Alfred's command the helicopter spun rapidly, sending Raivis into another round of hysterics. The pilot hovered over the open field – they were sitting targets for any of the heavier armed forces below. Tony kept them steady as Alfred sighted the anti-tank weapon, seeming to aim it low near Arthur, before tilting it higher and sending the first shot.

The missile went high, arching well over the people running around their property. Most of them hit the ground, which served them well when the house blew up. Alfred fired the secondary and last shot anyway, finishing off whatever was left of the foundation after the natural gas and previous grenade destroyed most of it. Alfred had a chance to stare at the resounding explosions, the fire, Arthur rising shakily to his feet before Ivan reached for his belt and wrenched him inside. He was pulled close to Ivan's chest as he slammed the other door closed with so much force to lock it in place with no difficulty.

"You wreckless…insipid…!" Ivan wasn't often rendered speechless, ready to say what he meant when he said it, but the display and the flying and just everything had him left breathless. During the resulting distraction Tony flew them as far from the property as possible, losing anyone that may have attempted to follow them as they passed over a nearby forest.

"When you swore to introduce me to the American black market, this is not quite the tour I was expecting," Kiku spoke up. The only thing about him out of place to show for the hectic situation was a strand of hair, which he smoothly brushed away.

"I promised you _excitement_ , didn't I? And that was pretty cool, right? Like the Fourth of July!" If Ivan didn't know better he would be convinced by the display that Alfred was relaxed about the entire affair, but he _did_ know better. He felt it in the occasional tremor, the way Alfred was unable to prevent leaning into his shoulder. The other man was exhausted, but refused to show it. "Plus you got a prima demonstration of those RPGs I was promising your client. Win-win."

"As usual, you are quite the showman, Alfred-kun."

"Don't you mean salesman?"

"Where are we going?" Ivan interrupted them.

"None of your business, fucker," Tony said, to which Alfred clarified, "He means one of our evac sites. By now all my planes should be in the air and making their way across the country. It should just be us left."

"No more planes," Ivan said. "No more helicopters. No more flying."

Alfred nudged the back of Tony's seat with his foot, rocking it, to stem another remark. "Come on, it’s fine, do as he says. Protocols will have air patrols looking for us in less than forty-five minutes if the county sergeant is to be believed. They'll be looking for this helicopter, so drop us off at the river and we'll cruise on out of here. They won't be expecting us to bail this soon after a bust so they'll not search our car or boats."

At everyone's blatant staring Alfred shrugged. "What? You think I schmoozed at every charity event and political function because I enjoy the taste of cheap caviar? Get a few drinks into any of the upper crust here and they'll divulge family secrets about grandma if you asked nicely."

"Huh, why didn't you think of doing that?" Eduard whispered, rethinking the question as soon as he said it and witnessed whatever expression Ivan wore. "Nevermind! Having me hack into all those private databases worked, too."  
  
  
  
  
The dock was empty at this hour – of people and even boats, save one. The port was a modest one, capable of hosting five vessels, but the loose boards, algae, and smell of rot showcased its age. Nobody except Ivan had known about this spot in a long time, and he made his way to it alone.

Once he reached the boat at the end he stepped onto the carrier. He possessed faster and larger or fancier vessels, except with this they could blend in anywhere. The exterior was rough, with paint peeling or scratched from the sun, wet, and lack of proper care. No one would suspect an international arms dealer to travel in such a dinky boat. There was enough room to fit two people comfortably on deck, including the captain at the helm.

Alfred was topside now, lounging in another one of his tight-fitting shorts and nothing else. Even his feet and hands were bare as he braced the heel of one palm on the railing, the other one holding a burner phone to his ear. At this angle Ivan could spot the blaring scar just above his hip, raw and sore looking.

On the cooler serving as a coffee table in the lounge area was an opened bottle of wine and two glasses, each of which were already partaken of. Ivan stared at the drinks for a time and only approached Alfred when he powered down his cellphone. Ripping the battery out, Alfred tossed both pieces of the phone into the water when he was finished.

"You should not be out in the open like this. Is risky, even for you," Ivan chided.

"Yeah, whatever," Alfred said, but a sigh left him as he melted into Ivan's side. His back and shoulders felt molten against Ivan's chest, even through the material of his shirt and coat. He rested a hand on Alfred's waist, avoiding the burn line he'd left. "It's too stuffy below deck. I couldn't stand it anymore."

Ivan allowed this to slide, opting to broach another topic. "Who did you entertain just now? I do not recall expecting any guests." Or approving of them, for that matter.

"Huh? Oh, Kiku swung by to say sayonara. His boss needed him to come home, but they adore me, so they'll let him come back to help with the relocating," Alfred said. He tilted his head, taking in the stars overhead. "It's gonna cost us a pretty penny to move our entire operation, but I'm more sorry about that red monstrosity you loved so much. My bad, that you had to lose the artwork like that."

It could have ended up costing them more than a porcelain Matryoshka doll, Ivan wanted to say, but instead he went with, "We always knew this outcome was a possibility. Contingency plans were in place. Think of this as a honeymoon, yes?"

"Confident, aren't you?" Alfred asked. "Kind of hard to justify traveling without a wedding, you know."

"You have not told me 'no'," he said.

Smirking, Alfred turned in his grip to face him. "I haven't told you 'yes', either."

"Then perhaps you should share the verdict," Ivan said, exuding a calm he did not possess. His hand slid lower, settling in place to pull him closer.

Alfred leaned into the touch, wrapping both arms loosely around his neck, but his expression sobered. "I'm sorry," he said. Ivan tried to pull away, but Alfred's hold did not allow them distance as he finished with, "but I can't marry you without a ring."

He held Ivan's gaze all of five seconds more, lips trembling and then breaking out in peals of laughter. Even when Ivan pinched his derriere in retaliation Alfred didn't stop laughing. He said, "You are delirious with fever."

"Mm, not deliriously in love?" Alfred asked, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he grinned up at him. He'd removed his glasses prior to Ivan's arrival, allowing him an unobstructed view.

"Certainly not," Ivan proclaimed, giving into his urge to kiss the bridge of his nose, square between the other man's gorgeous eyes. He rested his lips there for a minute, debating how best to convince Alfred to rest. While they waited for business matters to settle, he wanted Alfred fully rejuvenated for the jewelry shopping he had planned for them the next day.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations** :  
> Nyet = No
> 
> For reference, the song Alfred was singing in the car was Willie Nelson's [On the Road Again](https://youtu.be/dBN86y30Ufc). 
> 
> Check out my [writing blog on Tumblr](http://snaurus.tumblr.com/) for more content or [come say hi to me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/snaurus)!


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